Page 34

A SONG IN THE CITIES

The Little Drums are banging Mad war songs of the trails. My nostrils sting with memories Of thunderous, crashing gales. My eyes are sick with staring At these monoliths of Man And sick of vain illusion, I shall go where I can Find Gods to fit my temples, Find strength to meet my need, Find scars to hold my memories. Find men who know my creed. Sick of the waste of mankind In these roaring walls of stone. (These lustful sons of boredom Afraid to be alone). I shall make my pack and wander To the Beach from where I came And away from all this tinseled filth I shall revel in my shame!

Page 35

AN EGYPTIAN TEMPLE

The fantastic boats Dart to the dull, brown shore Disgorging color - Scarlet marionettes Turn and stamp Below majestic plinths - Hawk-faced priests Their vestments many hued Flashing in the torches' glare Do curious things To quivering forms! A girl's silv'ry laugh Defiles the ceremony ... Ebony figures flash - it is silenced! Fantastic boats Float out into the waters There is one empty couch!

Three years before Bradley joined the army, his mother bought a 320 acre ranch, complete with a huge log cabin home. He was raised on Jack Bell's burro Baldy, and gravitated naturally into the army, where he taught ROTC at the University of Chicago, his cavalry unit stationed on the Midway near Cottage Grove Avenue, near Lorado Taft's 'Progression of Time' sculpture.

"An Egyptian Temple" appeared in his poetry column in the University of Chicago Daily Maroon, November 2, 1928.